


The Black Wolf

by Sarolonde



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Lance, BAMF Paladins, Falling In Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Science Experiments, War, wolf shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-07 09:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarolonde/pseuds/Sarolonde
Summary: Years into battling the extensive Galra Empire, the Paladins complete missions like a well-oiled machine. Shiro has the Galra scientist cornered, but she isn’t going down without a fight, or, more accurately, without using experimental technology that turns Shiro into a wolf. Lance is optimistic that with their expert team of resident genius’ they’ll find a way to turn Shiro back into a human. But the longer Shiro remains a wolf the more he loses himself to the animal instincts, and Lance will do anything to get him back. Anything.





	1. Soft and Fluffy

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back bitches. Miss me? Here, have some Shance. It's finished and I'll be uploading the other chapters over the next couple of days.
> 
> I started writing this after s2 – yes, I’ve been sitting on it for a long time – so no canon after s2 is really applicable to this story.

Shiro has the Galra scientist backed into a corner, her yellow eyes glancing frantically for an escape route, but there’s not so much as an air vent in sight. The voices of the other paladins come through his helmet comm, all breathless and tense, caught up in combat elsewhere. After years battling the Galra empire together, Shiro’s confident in their abilities, apparently more so than they are in his.

“Shiro, wait for us to get there,” Keith orders, having well and truly settled into his leadership.

“Can’t,” Shiro surmises. “No time.”

If he doesn’t keep the pressure on her she’ll escape their grasp and not for the first time; she’s been a slippery one, they’ve been chasing her for months. That ends, here and now.

“There’s nowhere for you to run,” Shiro tells her, approaching cautiously. “You have no option but to surrender.”

The Galra snarls and curses under her breath before turning to Shiro, looking annoyed but not like someone who’s surrendering. “I didn’t want to waste this on the likes of you,” she hisses, drawing an odd gun shaped object from her robe and pulling the trigger.

Alert and prepared, Shiro dives away but the heat-seeker projectile follows him, hitting him in the chest with a surprisingly squishy softness and bursting into a plume of bright blue smoke. He frowns in confusion, wafting away the smoke easily. It barely hindered him… So, why does she look so smug?

Then Shiro feels it. His skin shivers, muscles flexing and twisting uncomfortably and the agonising shift of bone makes him double over. His helmet falls to the ground, he can hear his teammates desperately seeking a response from him but he can’t speak, his tongue feels too big and awkward in his mouth. And he’s… shrinking?

 

* * *

 

Breathing out a slow, controlled breath, Lance sights two Galra soldiers sneaking up behind Keith in his scope and drops them before Keith even notices their presence.

“Shiro?” Pidge questions, voice tense with worry. “Quiznak! Something’s wrong. The sensors in that quadrant are down, I’ll go and—”

“No, Pidge,” Lance interrupts, jumping down from his sniping perch. “I’ll go, you need to help Keith and Hunk get into that barracks. They’re priority, remember?”

In all honesty, from the moment Shiro ran off after the Galra Scientist he’s been twitchy and fidgeting, desperately wanting to race after him. They’ve had a few encounters with her and all know how dangerous she is. Lance trusts Shiro with anything, knows how dependable and strong he is, but can’t stop himself from worrying. He _needs_ to know Shiro’s okay.

“Keith, watch your arse, I’m sick of watching it for you,” Lance adds, gripping his rifle to his chest as he runs through the drab Galra corridors.

“You’ve been watching my arse?” Keith questions, amusement clear in his voice.

“I don’t know, man, turn around and check out those twelve unconscious Galra soldiers and you tell me.”

“I’ll take over watching Keith’s arse,” Pidge huffs with exasperation. “Lance can you just focus please, Shiro might be in serious trouble.”

“Oh, come on, Pidge. It’s Shiro,” Lance says, even as his heart clenches with the thought of Shiro getting hurt. “He’s our best soldier. What’s the worst that could—?”

Lance turns a corner and is sent sprawling, gun skittering across the metal floor and helmeted head hitting the wall with a dizzying crunch. He groans, holding his head as he tries to sit upright and blinks a few times before the blurring of his vision fades. His helmet took the likely fatal force of the impact, but Lance still feels like he’s tumbled down an elevator shaft. Again.

There’s someone standing before him and his overly hopeful mind thinks it’s Shiro, until he glances up and sees the Galra Scientist smirking down at him. She’s holding a Galra gun, aimed at his head. Lance groans and croaks into his communicator for assistance, but no response comes. He must have damaged it when he fell.

“Two down, three to go. Say goodnight, pathetic little paladin,” she says, smiling gleefully.

Lance tenses, trying to think of a way out of this, but his mind is too fuzzy. Her finger pulls firmly at the trigger—

A savage snarl tears down the corridor, echoing around the metal structure, and suddenly a giant black wolf leaps at the Galra Scientist. She shrieks and stumbles as the beast rips the gun from her hand and lands steadily in front of Lance.

The wolf is huge, it has long legs and a solid body covered in a thick coat of silky, black fur. It’s beautiful and terrifying, like something out of a fairy-tale. And it’s standing protectively between Lance and the Galra Scientist, growling, deep and rumbling low in its chest. Lance shakes his head and blinks a few more times, just to make sure he isn’t seeing things. Apparently, he isn’t.

She hisses with irritation and the wolf doesn’t seem to like that, lunging at her again. Lance watches them grapple with each other for a moment. Galra are incredibly strong and this one is rather fast, somehow avoiding those wicked sharp fangs. The wolf is quick and dangerous, snapping and snarling…

Lance really doesn’t want to have to face the wolf when it’s finished eating the Galra scientist, so he slowly, cautiously creeps across the floor to where his rifle landed. Feeling so much safer with it in his hands he turns back to the fight to see the Galra scientist pinning the wolf against the wall.

The wolf whimpers and whines, pained and begging for help, and Lance feels it like a punch in the gut. Somehow he knows he _needs_ to protect the wolf.

Aiming and firing automatically, Lance renders the Galra scientist unconscious. The wolf falls to the floor with her, and Lance expects it to go for her throat, confirm the kill or something to make sure she’s no longer a threat. That’s what wolves do isn’t it? Instead the wolf backs away from her warily, moving over to Lance as if seeking comfort.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Lance says, a little hysterically as he scrambles backwards quickly until he hits the wall. He aims his rifle but really doesn’t want to hurt the animal. It did just save his life. “No doggy, no! Sit! Stay!”

The wolf does as it’s told, drawing short of him uncertainly and tilting its head. With Lance sitting on the ground, the wolf’s head is at the same height as his own and which is utterly fucking petrifying. Looking at it more closely though, it looks vaguely familiar, with a pale pink scar across its muzzle and that patch of white fur on its forehead and the mechanical leg and the way it seems to be judging him with a thoroughly unimpressed expression…

Lance’s eyes widen. “Sh-Shiro…?”

The wolf’s tail starts to swish happily and it creeps forward slightly, as if seeking permission. Lance carefully offers his hand for the wolf to sniff and does his best not to wince as it draws closer. The wolf – Shiro? – presses his muzzle into Lance’s gloved palm and snorts, nudging him with annoyance.

“Okay, okay, I get it, you’re not going to hurt me,” Lance relents, dropping his hand and examining the wolf. Lance squints. “If you’re really Shiro, prove it.”

He huffs and trots down the corridor a little ways, turning back to Lance with an instructive bark. Lance groans, unsteadily rising to his feet and leaning heavily against the wall, his head spinning a little. The wolf nudges at his hip and tucks itself against Lance’s side, not tall enough to support him but trying to do so anyway.

“I’m fine, buddy. Thanks,” Lance says, petting the wolves head. “C’mon, lead the way.”

As Lance follows the great black wolf down the corridor, he seriously considers the possibility that this is a figment of his imagination and he’s lying unconscious in a cold Galra corridor. Or dead. Black wolves symbolise death don’t they?

Lance spots a heap of white and black paladin armour on the ground and starts running, the wolf trotting along beside him. He skids to a halt, but it’s only Shiro’s empty armour. He kneels before it and rummages through for any hint or clue.

“Well, you’re a great wingman and as much I’d love to see Shiro naked, this is serious. Do you know where he went from here?” Lance questions.

The wolf stares at him for a moment before plonking down and actually rolling it’s freaking eyes at him.

“Okay, you’re no help,” Lance bristles, facing the wolf. “You’re a very pretty puppy and I’d love to have a big badass wolf sidekick, because, well, for obvious awesome reasons. But you gotta convince me here, dude. Shiro would understand that I can’t just go around trusting random animals I meet that are trying to convince me they’re my teammates. Because if you _aren’t_ Shiro, I _have_ to find him. He’s—He’s too important. Understand?”

The wolf’s expression seems to soften, his grey eyes blinking with comprehension and surprise. If he is Shiro he wouldn’t be surprised that Lance would be worried for him, would he? Maybe it was the way his voice broke.

The wolf huffs and nods his head with affirmation.

“So, what we have to do – well, what _I_ have to do – is think of a way that you can convince me you’re Shiro, since you clearly don’t have any cool animal telepathy…” Lance trails off, thinking of a yes or no question to ask. But that would be too easy to guess. “What about… How old am I?”

The wolf taps his foot on the ground and looks up at Lance expectantly, so Lance starts counting.

“Right, twenty one, but that’s… Any Galra could know that too,” Lance admits, sighing and pulling his broken helmet off. He scrubs his hands through his hair. “My birthday was only a few quintents ago and Allura hosted a huge party. It was actually really annoying but,” he recalls, a giddy smile tugging at his lips at the memory, “Shiro, he—”

Standing up, the wolf moves closer and presses his nose to Lance’s cheek, just as Shiro had kissed his cheek that night. Lance’s eyes widen and his hand automatically goes to his cheek just as it had that night. He gapes at the wolf, at Shiro, because it’s looking at him exactly the same way Shiro had that night, smoky eyes regarding him with affection.

“Oh quiznak…” Lance breathes. “Shiro.”

His tail swishes happily and he bounces on his feet, bumping his head into Lance’s chest and nearly knocking him over. Lance feels so unbelievably relieved. Even if Shiro isn’t himself, at least Lance knows he’s safe. Besides, they have a fair few genius’ on the team that are sure to be able to fix this.

“Okay, okay,” Lance laughs, shoving Shiro off him because he apparently doesn’t know how to restrain himself as a wolf. “I’m sorry. I just had to be sure. Alright, we should get you outta here and try to figure out what happened.”

Shiro nudges his – the black paladin – helmet at him and Lance sets it on his head. It fits surprisingly well. He’s not sure why it’s surprising, they’re practically the same height, but Shiro’s always been Lance’s hero and has always seemed larger than life.

“Ah… Guys?”

“Lance…?” Pidge questions, understandably confused as he speaks through Shiro’s helmet and therefore on Shiro’s channel.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Bad news first _always_ , dude,” Hunk confirms decisively.

“Shiro’s been turned into a wolf.”

Silence falls across the communication system, which is a rarity, to say the least.

“What the heck is the _good_ news?” Hunk cries, incredulous.

“Um, he’s not dead…?” Lance offers, shrugging sheepishly.

 

* * *

 

“It’s definitely Shiro,” Allura confirms, arms crossed as she squints down at the large black wolf in Blue’s hanger. Shiro huffs at Lance and rolls his eyes, a wolf should _not_ be able to do that. “He says, ‘how could you forget Allura talks to animals?’ Honestly, Lance,” she sighs, whether for herself or Shiro or both Lance isn’t sure.

It’s true, he’s an idiot for not having thought of it. Allura has become incredibly adept at communicating with various creatures across various plants, in all the weird and wonderful ways they communicate. A true Altean Queen of the people.

He groans. “Look, it’s not my fault, do you have any idea how hard I hit my head?”

Shiro whimpers at the memory and quickly moves to Lance’s side.

“He was incredibly worried, he was terrified he wouldn’t get there in time to stop the Galra Scientist from hurting you,” Allura translates, to which Shiro barks a complaint. “Oh, apologies, I wasn’t supposed to say that…”

Lance raises an eyebrow down at Shiro. “You don’t want me to know that you were worried for me?” he asks, confused. Shiro shows no sign of response, only leans against Lance’s leg. “Okay… Well, I’m gonna go get concussion tested and whatnot. Can you handle the big bad wolf, little girl?”

Allura frowns and sets her hands on her hips angrily. “I am _not_ a little girl.”

“No, Allura, it’s from—”

Before Lance can even explain, Allura’s smiling and says, “Oh, a human fable. Sorry, Lance.”

Lance feels Shiro trembling and glances down to see him laughing, or, whatever the wolf equivalent is. Which, with the gaping powerful jaws, mostly just looks like he’s about to rip out someone’s jugular. The complete opposite of Shiro’s adorable chuckle, always hidden behind a hand, trying to repress the soft, mirthful sounds Lance has made it his lifes work to draw out of him.

“Right, well, get him to Coran and work out what the quiznak happened,” Lance says as he leaves.

 

* * *

 

“Is he scary?” Hunk questions at dinner.

Mission: successful. Galra barracks shut down, Galra arrested and prisoners rescued thanks to Keith and Hunk. Signal to other facilities discreetly tracked for their next mission thanks to Pidge. Galra Scientist captured – finally – thanks to Lance and wolf Shiro.

“No, Hunk, he’s _Shiro_ ,” Lance says, he can see that Hunk is nervous, a combination of worry for Shiro and being scared of his animal form. “He’d never hurt us.”

“Right, right. But, does he _look_ scary?”

“Obviously, he’s a giant freaking black wolf!”

“We should question the Galra Scientist,” Keith insists, mushing his green goo around his bowl with his spork. He’s understandably unsettled by Shiro’s condition, not that any of them have seen him yet, but from hearing about it. Keith is the pessimistic type, probably morosely wondering if they’ll ever get Shiro back to normal.

“He’ll be fine, Keith,” Lance assures, nudging him with his elbow and smiling encouragingly as Keith looks up at him. “We have a wealth of information. We have Coran and Pidge and Matt and, worse comes to worse, I’ll be right behind you to get answers outta that—”

He’s interrupted by a fearful yelp as Hunk scurries away a few steps and a crash as Keith’s chair flies backwards. Pidge’s brown eyes are wide and apprehensive, knuckles white where she grips the table. Lance’s gaze is immediately drawn to Shiro’s dark figure in the doorway, frozen and uncertain.

“Dammit, guys,” Lance scolds, standing up and walking around to Shiro, stoking a hand comfortingly down his soft black coat. “Calm down, you’re making Shiro feel bad. Holy crow, Keith! Put your freaking Bayard away. _Seriously_ …”

Their reactions are understandable, his hadn’t been much different – to be fair he didn’t _know_ it was Shiro and they _do_. He knows Shiro isn’t offended by their reactions, just concerned. Lance sighs and kneels down beside Shiro, continuing to pet him, more to demonstrate safety to the others than anything. Though, he is incredibly soft and Lance feels a strong desire to bury his face in Shiro’s neck.

“C’mon guys, he’s a big softie,” Lance reassures them, gesturing them over. “He even wags his tail if you’re nice enough.”

Shiro grumbles a complaint, halting Pidge, Keith and Hunk’s approach, but Lance only laughs mirthfully and they continue. Pidge is the first there, holding her hand out for Shiro knowledgably, like a kid who was raised with a dog and proper animal safety. Shiro nudges her hand impatiently and Pidge laughs.

“Gross, Shiro, your nose is all wet,” she comments, grimacing and rubbing her hand on her shirt before petting him on the head. “Aww but you’re all soft!”

At which point she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him. In comparison to Shiro’s sheer wolf-bulk, Pidge looks incredibly small, more so than usual. But Lance knows better than to say that out loud. Pidge trains with Keith a lot and Lance still has bruises from the last time he called her ‘tiny.’ Shiro’s tail starts wagging and his tongue lolls out of his mouth happily.

Keith approaches pretty easily after that, awkwardly petting Shiro’s neck and frowning like he’s trying to solve algebra. Hunk takes a little more time to warm up to Shiro, but Shiro’s always been patient and waits for Hunk to come to him. Not long after, Hunk’s feeding Shiro with his hands, heedless of the rows of razor sharp teeth. Shiro is very careful and polite. Obviously, because he’s a person and not a dog.

Coran and Allura return to report their findings, of which, there aren’t any. Yet.

“We’ve taken samples of Shiro’s blood and a sample of the blue substance we found on his armour,” Coran informs. “Tests are being run on each, but may take some time depending on the rarity of the substances used.”

“I’ll contact Matt,” Pidge says, petting Shiro’s head absentmindedly. “Send him some samples as well, in case we miss anything. See what he makes of it.”

“Do we know what happened?” Keith questions, arms folded across his chest and brow furrowed.

Allura sighs heavily. “Yes, Shiro gave me a detailed description of the incident, but it doesn’t shed much light on the situation. He had the Galra Scientist cornered, she shot him with that blue substance and he started to change. It was… painful.”

Lance winces. He hadn’t thought about that, about the physical change Shiro underwent and that it might have hurt. Glancing down at Shiro, Lance finds his eyes averted and head bowed, looking dismayed. Lance wants to hold him, tell him everything is going to be okay.

While none of this is positive it’s been a mere couple of hours. Lance has faith in his friends, in his team. He trusts in all their remarkable capabilities and knows when they work together they can do anything. Knows they can overcome this and get Shiro back to normal.

“So… Why a wolf?” Hunk asks curiously, rubbing his chin.

“Oh! That I actually have a theory on,” Coran chirps, brightening. “Thanks to your thorough archive of earth zoology, Hunk, I was able to familiarise myself with this strange creature.”

“Woah, woah, hold the phone,” Lance says, raising his arms in protest and indicating to Shiro. “You think this _beautiful creature_ is ‘strange’ but a zabolian is _completely_ normal.”

Zabolian’s are native to one of the bigger ally colonies. They’re ugly land creatures with tentacles and claws and they literally just roll along the ground all gross and blobby. Lance’s seen a lot of weird shit, but if he could erase anything from his mind it’d be that damn animal.

Coran gasps, offended. “You take that back! Zabolian’s are majestic creatures of significant importance to the history of—”

“Coran, the wolf,” Keith interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Right. Well, canis lupus, the wolf, is a rather spiritual animal for humans. It’s depicted as loyal and protective, a pack animal, valuing family and defending it fiercely. They are a creature of survival and great strength. Creatures of—”

“You think it’s because Shiro’s spirit animal is a wolf,” Pidge summarises, her voice gentle and serious, and Lance knows she agrees. Heck, with that description Lance definitely agrees. “Some sort of biological weapon that exposes what we truly are within? Or, possibly, how we see ourselves?” she speculates thoughtfully.

“Shiro doesn’t see himself—”

Allura’s translation is cut short by a low growl and she apologises quietly.

“Possibly…” Coran agrees, ignoring the exchange, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. “We won’t know until we get the results from the tests and discover what was in that smoke serum.”

“If that were true though, it’d be awesome!” Hunk says, grinning. Shiro huffs into the silence that follows and Hunk glances around, grimacing sheepishly.  “I mean… Apart from the part where some strange alien technology we know nothing about has been used on Shiro and we don’t know if we’ll be able to turn him back.”

Lance groans. “Wow, Hunk, way to destroy team morale. It’ll all be _fine_ , we’ll work it out and Shiro will be back to his usual gorgeous human self in no time. Not that I’m not diggin’ the badass wolf thing, buddy,” he adds, ruffling Shiro’s head. “Does he have somewhere to sleep? Does he need a dog bed?”

A deep annoyed protest rumbles from Shiro’s chest and the others look apprehensive verging on scared, but Lance laughs and bumps his side playfully.

“I’ve made sure all the door sensors recognise Shiro’s presence and have specifically programed his bedroom doors to automatically lock and unlock for him,” Allura says. “Shiro has access to his quarters and shall be able to sleep there.”

“Alright, sounds like everything is under control and now we play the waiting game,” Lance says, clapping his hands together decisively. Lethargy seeps deep into Lance’s bones and he hears the call of his soft, warm bed. He pets Shiro’s head before he turns to leave. “Good work team! I’m gonna go get some rest. We all should.”

“You’re not the leader,” Keith grumbles half-heartedly, following after him. “Since when do you dismiss us and tell us what to do?”

“Since you got terrible people skills… Oh no, wait, you’ve _always_ had terrible people skills,” Lance chuckles and bumps their shoulders together as they walk, Keith shoving him back playfully.

 

* * *

 

Shiro wanders the halls of the Castle of Lions restlessly, overwhelmed by the new and extensive range of his senses. Colours are faded and changed, some brighter than others, some dulling completely to grey. Scents are everywhere, on every surface, and he’s able to smell things he never considered even had a scent. Noises surround him, the Castle of Lion’s engines and valves and mechanisms – not even a low hum to his human ears – humming and grinding and powering.

Gradually he’s growing accustomed to it, learning to focus on specific things and ignore the rest.

The scents are the most difficult. Each scent is unbelievably complex, with hundreds of components human languages don’t have words to explain, yet he’s quickly learning to discern minute differences. Shiro follows scents around the Castle of Lions like a training exercise.

At present he’s following Pidge’s scent, or, more specifically, her most recent scent, as her scent is understandably everywhere. It had been overwhelming when he’d first arrived on the Castle of Lions, threads of scent of each of his teammates twisting and turning and coiling around each other like a mess of tree roots. But now he’s able to focus on a single thread, Pidge’s unique metal and pine.

Unsurprisingly, Shiro’s lead to Green’s hanger where Pidge has set up her tech lab. The door slides open and Shiro enters carefully, not wanting to startle her as he had earlier.

Pidge’s on the plush red sofa in the corner, eyes focussed on the holographic interface hovering in front of her and completely unfazed by the two men sleeping tangled around her. She’s tucked into Hunk’s side, his arm draped over her shoulder, while Keith’s draped over her lap, legs sprawled along the sofa.

Shiro draws to a halt and feels his heart swell with fondness.

The years they’ve spent together, fighting and surviving, protecting each other, relying on each other in combat and for emotional support, has brought all of them so close. Even when Lance and Keith grumble at each other, even when Pidge and Hunk squabble about tech, even when Coran and Allura argue over the capabilities of the Castle of Lions. Shiro has no doubt that each and every member of the Voltron crew love and cherish each other, would do anything for each other.

They’re family.

Seeing Pidge, Keith and Hunk curled up on the sofa together forms a deep, instinctive need to cuddle with them. A mere notion when he’s human now feels essential, the pack aspect of his wolf-self longing for the familial comfort in his melancholy mindset. But something stops him, something stronger, if possible.

Shiro inhales, senses pleasantly overwhelmed with warm laughter and bright smiles and brilliant blue eyes. The thread of Lance’s scent wraps around him, shining clearer and more powerfully than any other scent around him. It tugs at his heart and draws him helplessly towards Lance.

He’s outside of Lance’s door promptly and it slides open. Which is strange, it should be locked.

Shiro pads inside slowly, dizzy with the potency of Lance’s spicy, fresh scent in his bedroom. Lance is heavily asleep in his bed, sleeping surprisingly neatly on his back and breathing softly. Shiro rests his head on the side of the bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Lance’s chest and considering.

For months and months Shiro has been struggling with his feelings for Lance, ignoring them and suppressing them. Gritting his teeth as Lance flirts with person after person; curling his hand into a fist to stop himself reaching out to touch him; swallowing down the affectionate comments and compliments; exerting himself with training when all he can think about is Lance’s lips or thighs or eyes. Then, on Lance’s birthday, Shiro simply couldn’t resist any more. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Lance, from wanting Lance, from being in love with Lance; he’s too far gone.

Shiro was on the verge of telling Lance how he felt when Pidge caught the trail of the elusive Galra Scientist and decided to postpone for when they were less focused on an important mission. And now this has happened…

Shiro curls his claws against the floor and heaves a deep sigh. He doesn’t know if they’ll be able to fix him. If he’ll ever be human again. If he’ll ever be able to tell Lance how he feels. A quiet, pained whimper escapes his throat as sadness washes through him and makes him tremble.

With distressing frustration prickling over his skin and creeping through his mind, Shiro jumps onto Lance’s bed. Getting a feel for where Lance’s limbs are, Shiro settles his large body on the comfortable bed and curls into Lance’s side. The warmth and tranquillity of Lance’s presence soothes through him, releasing tension he didn’t know he’d been holding and easing the anxious maelstrom in his mind.

Shiro buries his muzzle against Lance’s arm and breathes. The fatigue of his eventful day engulfs him swiftly, luring him into a peaceful sleep.


	2. Howling

“Ah, there you are,” Shiro’s voice cuts through the din of the crowd and immediately sets Lance at ease. He feels himself brighten as Shiro approaches and stands close. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance greets, no longer having to force his smile. He turns to his guests and says, “I’m sorry but I’ll have to get back to you. Important Paladin business and all that.”

Taking Shiro’s elbow, Lance hurriedly leads him away from the two people he’d been trapped in a conversation with for what felt like vargas. Finding an isolated alcove off the Castle of Lions main hall, Lance exhales a relieved breath and drapes himself over Shiro, groaning gratefully.

“Dude, you are my freaking hero! Again. Always,” Lance says, feeling Shiro stiffen, surprised by the abrupt embrace, and pat him on the back awkwardly. “Ack, I don’t even remember what those aliens are called.”

Shiro chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “They were from Taujeer.”

“Right, right. That weird planet with the ark and all the drama.” Lance straightens and holds Shiro’s impressive shoulders, squeezing meaningfully. “Seriously, man, thank you. I was so bored, I don’t even know half these… er, people?”

“Yes, Lance, they’re people too. Don’t go getting space racist.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m not. I’m just… I’m kinda annoyed Allura decided to use my birthday for her diplomatic benefit. I just wanted to spend a quiet night with you guys, cuddled together on Pidge’s sofa watching a movie.”

Shiro’s brow furrows with concern. “We’ll do it tomorrow for you, have our own little celebration.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Lance, it’s your birthday.”

Lance grins so broadly his face hurts. “Okay, I’m gonna hold you to—”

Allura’s regal voice catches his attention, calling out his name searchingly.

“That woman is relentless,” Lance sighs, patting Shiro as he goes to leave with a dramatic bow. “I must bid my knight in shining armour adieu, for my people await. Probably won’t get a chance to see you again with all this greeting and conversing that’s apparently required of me, so have a good night, Shiro.”

“Wait, Lance.”

Shiro catches his wrist and when Lance turns back to him, Shiro’s standing so close any response his brain creates catches in the back of his throat. Lance’s mouth falls open softly in surprise as Shiro leans in slowly, warm fingers curling around Lance’s neck, and presses a kiss to Lance’s cheek. It’s no friendly kiss of congratulations, its tender and lingering, warming Lance’s skin and making his heart tumble and gallop.

“Happy Birthday, Lance,” Shiro murmurs, smiling affectionately as he pulls back, fingers trailing Lance’s skin. And he’s gone. And all Lance can do is stare into the empty space Shiro left, heaving in a breath when his lungs start to protest the lack of oxygen.

He feels warm. He feels… heavy; something’s weighing down his chest and making breathing difficult.

Lance wakes slowly, blinking away the dream unwillingly. As he gradually becomes aware the heaviness on his chest becomes apparent, a real non-dream thing. In the dim glow of his bedroom, Lance sees something large and black settled on his chest and panic bursts through him.

Yelping, Lance scurries backwards, back hitting the wall but the adrenaline numbs the pain and he curls himself defensively into the corner. The large black beast springs to action, standing before Lance’s bed protectively and growling fiercely as it frantically searches for a threat. With the flurry of movement the lights come on, and Lance sighs heavily with relief as he realises it’s only Shiro.

“Holy crow, Shiro, you scared me,” he breathes, watching as Shiro deems the room safe and turns back to Lance. “How did you get in here?”

Huffing with exasperation, Shiro trots over to the door to demonstrate it sliding open for him.

Lance frowns. “That shouldn’t be possible. Maybe Allura made a mistake when she was programing the system for you.”

Shiro backs further out the door and glances at Lance, silky black ears flicking in question.

“No, it’s okay, man. Come here,” he allows, patting the bed. Shiro takes a few steps into the room but hesitates. Lance laughs and pats the bed again. “C’mon, Shiro, be a good boy and you might get a belly rub.”

Shiro rolls his eyes but pads over to the bed, jumps up and settles carefully beside him. Lance’s hand strokes over Shiro’s fur easily. Perhaps too easily considering Shiro isn’t an actual dog but a full grown, incredibly attractive man and Lance’s friend at that. But the reassuring touch feels natural and Shiro doesn’t complain, leaning into Lance approvingly.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” Lance says, not expecting a response. He crawls back under his covers and curls on his side to face Shiro as he pets him. “I know you’ll probably feel guilty or some other equally silly Shiro thing, but you don’t have to. This must be difficult, being changed like this. I mean, I’d feel scared and lost. And it’s not like we haven’t fallen asleep together. Like that time the others left us on the sofa one night because apparently we looked ‘adorable’ and I got…”

Lance’s hand stills and Shiro tilts his head to look at him, smoky grey eyes watching him with curiosity. His chest bubbles with that affectionate warmth he feels whenever he thinks about Shiro or at any word or touch they share. Definitely _not_ the time.

“Anyway, my point is, I’m always here for you, Shiro,” he finishes, voice soft and sincere.

Shiro blinks at him a silent moment before shuffling closer and nuzzling into Lance’s chest gratefully. The eager force of it causes Lance to laugh and he tries to shove him back.

“Dude, c’mon, you’re heavy and strong… Heavier and stronger,” he corrects. “If that’s even possible. Dogs really don’t know their own strength.”

Huffing his I’m-not-a-dog exasperation, Shiro rises, circles around and slumps down comfortably. Like a dog.

Grinning, Lance ruffles his head before laying on his back. “You’re right, as always. We should get some more sleep. Goodnight, Shiro.”

After a few motionless dobashes the light turns out and Lance listens carefully as Shiro’s breathing steadies. Lance raises his hand to his cheek, fingertips grazing the skin Shiro had kissed three quintents ago, and he sighs wistfully.

They hadn’t had time to talk about it, hadn’t even had time for Lance’s birthday movie night. The next morning one of Pidge’s tracking programs picked up an alert on the Galra Scientist and the team had been on her trail ever since, raiding Galra facilities and triangulating data. Lance hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss or Shiro since, but he knows the importance of focussing on missions and is an expert emotional compartmentaliser.

Lance wants to tell Shiro how he feels, how he’s always felt but never thought it possible for Shiro to return his feelings. But he can’t. It’s not important right now. What’s important is getting Shiro back to normal. It’s all that matters.

 

* * *

 

“Inconclusive.”

An uncharacteristic silence follows Coran’s explanation about the results of Shiro’s tests. Lance only heard one word among all the science-y smart-people gibberish and it echoes hollowly in his mind. Lance shifts from foot to foot as they all stand staring up at the screens on the command deck. Shiro leans, soft and warm, into Lance’s leg and Lance reaches down to pet his head. That’s just like Shiro, comforting others when he’s the one that needs comforting.

“We waited two whole days for an ‘inconclusive’ result? What does that _mean_?” Keith questions, bristling. “What do we do now?”

“Well, Keith, the Castle of Lions is majestic piece of machinery and has advanced systems,” Coran starts and Lance can practically feel Keith containing a sigh. Hell, even Lance wants to tell him to get to the point and he generally loves listening to Coran babble. “Our databases contained every known substance in the universe! However, it seems in our ten thousand deca-phoebs adrift new substances have been created and discovered.”

“All right, so we just need access to a _complete_ database—”

“On it,” Pidge asserts, typing furiously into her holo-computer. She’d been worryingly quiet but Lance should have known she’s already working on a solution. “Contacting Matt. The Resistance have an up to date database, perhaps he has the answers.”

“Next we meet with them we should request an update for our systems,” Allura tells Coran, who blushes slightly and nods a solemn agreement. “Can we contact Matt?”

“Connecting.”

Matt’s bespectacled face appears on the screen and Lance’s first thought is always ‘Pidge.’ He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to them, they look so alike, they could be twins. Since Pidge gave Matt his round-framed glasses back and grew her hair out, Matt looks more like ‘Pidge’ and Pidge looks more like Katie, even though they still call her ‘Pidge’… if that makes any sense. It makes sense to Lance. So. There.

“Hey guys!” Matt waves excitedly and then squints. “Woah, Shiro, you really _are_ a wolf! That’s so badass!”

Shiro growls irritably.

“He says—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt says dismissively, chuckling with amusement and already typing. And that’s Matt for you, interrupting Allura and ignoring the annoyance of a giant scary wolf. “He wants me to focus and get on with it. Our biometrics is still compiling results as our systems don’t quite have the power that the Castle of Lions does. I’ll get back to you as soon as it’s done.”

“Good chat, buddy,” Lance quips.

Matt smirks. “Lance, you saw me a week ago.”

“And I miss you already, Matty,” he pouts playfully.

Matt’s chuckling laugh is cut short when Shiro growls, loud and threatening, and everyone turns to look at him in surprise, even Matt stops typing to frown at him. Lance glances between them a little nervously and watches as realisation draws a bright, devious grin to Matt’s face.

“Feeling a little territorial there, Shiro?”

Shiro takes a challenging step forward, in front of Lance, snarling ferociously and baring his teeth at the holographic image of Matt. Lance’s pulse quickens and his hands tremble instinctively, because as he looks down at Shiro all he sees is an animal, a wolf. All the soft kindness in his smoky eyes is gone. All the relaxed ease of his stoic stance is gone.

It feels like Shiro’s gone.

“Sh-Shiro?” Lance murmurs uncertainly, fingers shaking as he reaches out to thread them through his thick black fur. Shiro doesn’t seem to mind his touch at all, even though he looks ready to attack anyone else who dare move an inch. “It’s okay, Shiro. We’re okay, buddy.”

His growling slowly quietens and the rigid tension in his large wolfy body relaxes as he seems to come back to himself. Shiro blinks, glancing around the room and he bows his head apologetically before turning quickly to leave.

Lance gapes after him. This is bad. He doesn’t even understand all this science and crap – honestly it seems like magic to him – but he knows that this is capital ‘B’ bad.

“Interesting,” Coran speaks into the awkward silence. “Animal instinct seems to be taking over.”

“Taking over?!” Hunk questions fretfully. “What do you mean _‘taking over’_? It was like he wasn’t even Shiro anymore…”

“For a moment there, he wasn’t,” Allura informs softly, distantly. She sounds upset, voice on the verge of wavering. “Usually his mind is cacophonous with layers upon layers of human contemplations, but it quietened to single thread of thought-process. Much like I hear in the mice.”

“We need to fix this,” Keith stresses, voice strained with his aggressive brand of concern.

Matt nods, more serious than before. “On it, boss. I’ll let you know as soon as I get something.” He turns back to his work and disconnects the call.

Lance’s mind drifts gloomily as he considers what this all means. Losing Shiro. Shiro’s mind overcome with the animal he has been transformed into. Is this the Galra Scientist’s plan? To watch them scramble for a way to fix their friend while his consciousness, while everything that makes him _Shiro_ , simply fades away.

“Lance?”

Keith’s voice breaks through his bleak musings. He turns to see Keith frowning at him, eyes dark with worry. It’s not something Lance is used to having directed at him, he’s usually better at hiding his fear than this. But it’s Shiro…

“I think you should go talk to Shiro,” Keith says, attempting to sound understanding but missing the mark. Lance appreciates the attempt nonetheless. “I think you’re the only one he… um—uh, well when he… he was very…”

“You’re the only one he’ll listen to.”

“Yes. That. Thank you, Hunk,” Keith says. Hunk smiles at him and pats him on the shoulder fondly.

“Shiro’s in the—”

“I know where he is,” Lance tells Pidge and notices her exchanging a look with Hunk before he turns on his heel and walks out of the command room.

He knows they know. Hunk’s his best friend so of course Lance had told him about his crush on Shiro, and gushed about him on numerous occasions. Pidge knows because… well, because she’s Pidge and he’s convinced she knows everything. Allura probably knows because of the mice and Coran is a rather discerning man despite his wackiness.

Keith and Matt are the surprising ones. Keith’s pretty dense about personal things, it’s why he needs Lance when dealing with diplomatic matters – Allura and Shiro sometimes need him too, their leaders aren’t particularly personable. And Matt… Maybe Shiro spoke to them about Lance? The thought sends a waves of exhilarating warmth through him. Shiro _had_ kissed him, perhaps he feels the same way about Lance as Lance feels about him.

He can’t focus on that right now. He has to focus on getting Shiro back, because if he loses Shiro… Lance can’t lose Shiro. He just can’t.

Lance finds the now familiar mass of black and grey fur – highly distinguishable in the pale halls of the Castle of Lions – in an alcove outside the training deck. He’s found Shiro out here countless times in the past, still sweaty from training, as if distracted in the midst of getting back to his room, and staring out at the stars, looking lost and vulnerable without his usual calm mask.

Shiro doesn’t even twitch as Lance approaches and sits quietly beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his wolf form. Even if he could talk, Shiro wouldn’t. He’d wait patiently for Lance to find his words, say what he needs to say. Shiro’s always been patient, a good listener.

“Again with the guilt, I bet,” Lance begins casually, staring out at the velvety indigo universe of glistening stars. “You know, you don’t have to feel so guilty about everything, Shiro. They’re your friends and they’re more understanding than you know. They know you’d never intentionally hurt them. They know you’re going through something difficult that’s out of your control. They’ll love you no matter what.”

Shiro remains quiet, but his head drops into a helpless, defeated bow and it hurts to watch. Lance closes his eyes and leans his full weight against Shiro, knowing he can bear it.

“We’ll reverse this, Shiro,” he murmurs quietly. “You know better than anyone that those Holt siblings are capable of anything. They’ll work this out and everything will be okay. Trust in them. Trust in us. We’ve got your back, dude.”

Shiro rumbles deep in his chest in what Lance deciphers as agreement. Shiro’s always had so much faith in them, even when they were kids flying by the seat of their pants as they discovered ancient alien cat robots. As positive as Lance played it to their faces, Lance didn’t have faith in them. Yet, here they are. Shiro was right, they handled Zarkon and they can handle the remnants of the Galran Empire.

Lance catches his own weight when Shiro lowers himself to lay down and then arranges himself in Lance’s lap. Or, partially in Lance’s lap so that he’s not crushing Lance’s legs. Shiro’s thoughtful like that.

Smiling down at him, Lance strokes his hand down Shiro’s back. Shiro hums appreciatively and closes his eyes, relaxing into Lance. Trusting him.

 

* * *

 

“Nevum Yal,” Matt states, as if they’re supposed to understand the ridiculous sounds coming out of his mouth. A bunch of science screens pop up around the image of Matt in his lab, and Pidge and Coran narrow their eyes at them, nodding. “I’ve analysed the substance and already developed an antidote. Unfortunately, the main ingredient I need for the antidote is Nevum Yal and the only known developer of this substance is the Galra Scientist who infected Shiro in the first place.”

“Then we interrogate her more, I will get that fucking information out of her even if I have to—”

“Keith,” Matt says, a soothing note to his voice that Lance has never heard before. Keith stills, tense but listening. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No need for that, Keith. I finally tracked down her main laboratory from some of the microscopic substance we found on her clothing,” Pidge explains, pulling up a solar system on the main screen and zooming into one of the planets. “It’s secluded from the main Galran outpost on this planet, should allow us plenty of time to get in and out with the Nevum Yal.”

Lance chuckles happily. “You Holt siblings are actually ridiculous, you know that?”

“Hey! I helped!” Hunk insists. “I was the one who went over the Galra Scientist’s clothes with a fine-toothed comb.”

“Ya did good, buddy,” Lance compliments, patting Hunk on the shoulder. “We should probably suit up and get on our merry way then.”

“That’s for me to decide,” Keith grumbles half-heartedly.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him playfully. “Go on then, boss.”

Keith tells them to gear up and get to their hangers, a little stiffly in the face of Lance’s challenge as it was obviously what they were going to do. Save Shiro. Waste no more time waiting around. Shiro had had a few more episodes of lost control in the quintant awaiting Matt’s results, Lance seeming to be the only one who could soothe him, until Shiro decided to isolate himself and hide out in Lance’s room. Seeing him like that was terrifying.

 _It won’t happen again_ , Lance vows, bolstering his resolve. _We’re gonna get Shiro back!_

As everyone moves off to their bunker and control stations Lance hangs back by Shiro’s side. Shiro has been quiet despite Matt and Pidge’s good news, ever cynical and never one to hope for much. Lance kneels down and rests his palm flat against Shiro’s neck, meeting his grey gaze.

“We’ll be back with the Nevum Yal and then have an antidote before you know it,” Lance says with a bright grin, realising this is finally going to be over, Shiro will be back to his usual self and all will be right again. “Count on it.”

Shiro whimpered, a short, worried sound.

Lance shook his head, pressing his palm more firmly into Shiro’s warm black coat. “There isn’t any Galra activity anywhere near the laboratory, we’ll be fine. Easiest damn mission we’ll ever do,” he assures confidently.

Shiro takes a step forward and presses his wet nose against Lance’s cheek, the way he did that first day of being a wolf. _Be careful_ , Lance hears Shiro’s voice in his head, whether or not he’s hearing it for real or recalling a memory Lance has no clue.

For an insane moment of distress Lance doesn’t want to leave Shiro, wants to stay there curled around his warmth whether it’s fur covered or not, because at least he’s there. But he can’t, he has to go. Shiro won’t be there for long if they don’t recover the Nevum Yal. He’ll lose Shiro forever and that’s most painful thing that anything Lance can fathom. So Lance stands and takes a few steps back, watching the rigid, fearful form of Shiro’s wolf.

“I’ll bring it back for you,” Lance promises.

_No matter what._

He turns on his heel and jogs to Blue’s hangar.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my God, we’re _never_ getting through this door!” Hunk complains dramatically, waving his giant gun at the solid metal door in question.

“You doubt my hacking prowess, Hunkinator? I’m shocked and offended,” Pidge comments without conviction, the majority of her attention on her hacking progress. Which is, Lance will allow, taking a lot longer than usual.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Pidge, just focus.”

“I am completely capable of doing more than one thing at a time, unlike you one-tracked mind—Ah ha!” she shouts in triumph as there is a sound of releasing pressure and the doors slide open. Pidge does a celebratory little wiggle and puts her panel away in favour of holding her Bayard. “Told ya.”

Lance glances inside the cold metal passage that quickly lights up with automated lighting. It pretty much looks like all Galra facilities, which often leaves him feeling a dizzying sense of déjà vu on most missions. He doesn’t know how he’s managed to maintain his sanity at the lack of Galra decorating.

“Save your bragging, we have another door to get through yet,” Keith points out, taking a few, careful steps forward. “Hunk, guard this entrance. If you see anything let us know.”

Hunk nods, knowing this routine well by now. Hunk’s the best to leave at any choke point, he can lay out blankets of heavy fire that stops any Galra units. They would usually leave Lance up on a perch with a clear shot at the entrance to give Hunk cover, but they don’t expect any company, not externally anyway. With the heavy cloaking of the facilities internal security Keith didn’t want to risk it and decided to bring Lance with them. As much as Lance loves sniping, having his teammate’s backs, it can get boring and being in the frontline team is a nice change-up.

Keith stalks forward, Bayard sharp and shining at his side, ready for anything. Lance follows, gun at his shoulder eye on his Bayard’s sight in hope of beating Keith to any kill. He may be the leader but that doesn’t mean Lance lets Keith one-up him, quite the opposite. If anything they’ve become even more competitive, though these days it’s more friendly competition. And Pidge comes up behind them, scanning the area diligently through her visor.

“Getting a read, Pidge?” Keith questions under his breath.

“No, just—Wait, there!”

She points at another metal door, noticeably more solidly fortified than the others, about twenty ticks into their trek from the main door. Lance sets up with his back to the door, watching the corridor while Pidge sets up by the doors power panel and Keith prepares himself by the door.

“I would hope that this isn’t as complex as the entrance panel, but that would be wishful thinking… Yep, holy quiznak this Scientist bitch was paranoid,” Pidge mutters in annoyance as she types away at her holographic interface.

Lance scoffs a laugh. “You mean paranoid about someone hacking into her top secret laboratory? No… Why should she be paranoid about that?”

“Lance, your sarcasm isn’t necessary,” Allura scolds through their helmet comms. “Allow Pidge to concentrate on her important work.”

“My sarcasm is always necessary, Princess.”

“For the last time, I’m completely capable of—”

“Multitasking, we know!” Keith and Hunk interrupt Pidge simultaneously, and Lance laughs. Lance glances back to see Keith resisting a smile, asking Hunk a question rather than letting such an outrageous thing take over his face.

“How’s it looking out there, Hunk?”

“Clear as crystal, boss,” he reports.

“Allura?”

“Nothing on the radar.”

Keith nods. “Keep an eye out, they can always surprise us with their stealth technology. Keep in contact and if anything seems out of the ordinary let us know. Remember to keep comms clear but keep up constant communication.”

It sounds contradictory but they all know what he means, they all know the drill, voicing their understanding.

Lance watches Keith for a moment, wondering how proud Shiro must be. Hell, even Lance feels proud of their angsty little leader. But to know Keith since he was a kid, to have thought he’d never see Keith again, to see how much he’s changed and grown, letting go of all the anger – okay, most of it – and becoming the leader they all needed. Replacing Shiro because they all knew Shiro needed a break, needed to recover from his trauma. Shiro must be unbelievably proud, and grateful to Keith for taking the burden from him.

Even if Keith is their leader though, there is no way they’d survive without Shiro. Shiro is their heart and strength, he manages to pull them through no matter what, throwing himself into the line of fire to protect any of them without a moment’s hesitation. Keith wouldn’t be the leader he is today without Shiro. The team is nothing without Shiro.

“Yes!” Pidge cheers, fist pumping into the air as the door slides open.

Thinking only about Shiro, about getting him back to himself, about saving him, Lance steps forward to retrieve the Nevum Yal as quickly as possible.

“Wait, wait, _wait_! _Lance, don’t_!” Pidge screams frantically and Lance freezes at the precipice, his heart pounding with eagerness to cure Shiro and adrenaline at the desperation in Pidge’s voice. “It’s trapped, the room is trapped. If you enter the door will close and… _fuck_ , corrosive gas, it can burn through our suits.”

“Bypass it,” Keith commands sternly.

Lance swears, taking a step back, his eyes scanning the room swiftly. It looks similar to another Galra Scientist’s lab they cleared out over a year ago with it’s strange looking apparatus and containers filled with chemicals and components. Then he sees it, a vial of blue liquid.

“There, that the Nevum Yal?” Lance questions, pointing at the vial.

Pidge glances up, scrutinising it through her visor, and she lets out a small sigh of relief. “That’s it, it’s here. I just have to—”

“Ahh, guys, we’ve got a problem,” Hunk says, voice filled with worry.

“Incoming Galra units, ships…” Allura informs, her voice fading out as she calculates. That’s never a good sign. If they only _just_ came up on the radar that means they’re using stealth and that means that it’s an entire fleet. “A fleet, less than a dobash out. Only seven strong, but too many for us to hold back without any of the Lions as you guys are on the ground, let alone without Voltron.”

“Allura, you need to hold them back, we need more time,” Keith growls as he hovers over Pidge, watching her type furiously. “You should never have let them get this close in the first place!”

“Keith, do _not_ speak to me like that,” Allura scolds, her voice scarily commanding. “You know they have stealth technology our sensors simply cannot pick up. We will do what we can but you need to hasten your efforts.”

Lance starts to pace in front of the door nervously, staring at that damn vial that’s all but taunting him. It’s there, it’s _right fucking there_! Shiro’s antidote. Shiro needs it, and Lance _needs_ to get it.

“Pidge?” Keith questions with a sharp edge of agitation.

“I’m working on it!” Pidge snaps, brow sweating as she runs into nothing but firewall after firewall.

“Guys, they’re dropping ground troops,” Hunk says, voice wavering with fear. “ _Lots_ of ground troops.”

“Quiznak! We just don’t have enough weapons to engage them all!” Coran calls through the comms.

“Pidge, we are running out of time!” Keith barks, his knuckles bone-white around the hilt of his Bayard.

“I know! I’m trying! I just can’t—”

“You need to retreat,” Allura insists, calm and commanding. “Hunk will soon be overrun and the Castle of Lions cannot hold back an entire fleet, we’d need Voltron and we can’t—We need to retreat, Keith, and you know it.”

Keith is quietly contemplative for a moment, two, and tense with an internal struggle they all understand too well.

Everything goes quiet in Lance’s mind and he stops pacing, standing at the precipice of the door with his gaze intent on the vial. He remembers the time Shiro dove on top of Pidge, protecting her from the deadly shrapnel of a nearby explosion Lance feared they would both die in. He remembers Shiro, bound and on his knees, yelling at a Galran Commander to take his attention away from a very injured – and somehow still mouthy – Keith. He remembers Shiro, wounded and exhausted and almost half-dead himself, carrying an unconscious Hunk out of a nest of giant locust creatures.

Shiro would die for any one of them, without a second thought. Lance would do the same for any one of them, but Shiro—For Shiro he would fight his way through the pits of this galaxies most incomprehensible hells, just to see him again. So this, this sacrifice is nothing.

“We’ll find another way,” Allura says, a worried, pleading softness to her voice. “We’ll fight them back and return for the Verum Yal, or we’ll find more, or—”

“Fuck it,” Lance murmurs and leaps into the room.

He hears Keith and Pidge scream his name behind him, but he focuses on his goal. Lance rolls to his feet, reaches for the vial and tosses it back to Keith in one fluid motion. The last thing he sees before the only exit closes behind him is Keith reflexively catching the blue vial and Lance slumps with relief, a smile curving onto his face.

_I did it. I saved him._

Lance’s comm screeches with his friends screams, with their fear and confusion, but he simply leans back against the leg of a lab table and watches with uncontrollable horror as a thick grey gas slowly leaks into the room.

“Lance! Lance!” Keith screams, pounding on the door, somehow making it tremble even though it’s so impossibly sturdy. Lance has never heard him sound so panicked. “Pidge, get it open! _Now!_ ”

“I’m trying,” Pidge sounds small, scared.

“Keith, what’s happening?” Allura asks.

“Lance, he—he’s locked inside and the room is filling with corrosive gas.” Allura gasps, but Keith’s voice is calmer and Lance recognises his strategic quietness. “Hunk I need you to get into Yellow, we need to somehow break—”

“I’m pinned down—” Lance hears the familiar sound of combat and Hunk panting through his comm, lets it wash over him as the gas licks at his legs, burning into the pristine white of his armour. “I can’t get to Yellow. Where is Lance?”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Lance mumbles sadly into his comm, tilting his head back against the table and watching the gas eat away at everything in the room. Then he feels it, just a scratch at first, then a painful bite, scorching into the flesh of his thigh. Lance grits his teeth against it. “I’m sorry, guys. Get it to Shiro, and make that antidote. Tell him… Tell him— _fuck_ , tell him I’m sorry.”

“Lance, you fucking listen to—”

Keith’s words are cut short by a pained howl, long and loud, and for all Lance knows he could have made the sound as his vision blurs and mind starts to go foggy. Burning agony wrapping around his arms and his chest, reaching up the back of his neck, and breathing gets difficult. Lance is crying, he knows that much, it just hurts too much, he can’t bear it!

 _Oh, God, help me,_ Lance begs. _Someone... Anyone... Please, help me, it hurts!_

“—the Black Lion just left her hangar,” Coran says, his voice distant to Lance’s ears. The whole conversation distant, as if from another room, another world, another life.

“Who in the—?”

Lance feels the tremor, everything around him tilting and shuddering. It only hurts more, knocking him and bumping at his searing skin. Lance cries out in agony as it consumes his entire body. Then there is a deafening roar and this time when the tremor comes Lance feels numb, thankfully and blessedly numb. It doesn’t hurt anymore. He relaxes back because he feels so much better. Everything is going to be okay.

“—Black Lion attacking the facility—”

“Who the hell is piloting it?”

“Shiro seems to be… but he’s still here…”

“Shiro…” Lance murmurs, feeling light and weightless, feeling himself let go.

_Wait, Lance._

It’s Shiro’s voice in his head, clear and strong. He feels Shiro’s fingers wrap around his wrist, feels the warmth of Shiro’s solid body so intoxicatingly close, feels Shiro’s hand at his neck, feels Shiro’s lips on his cheek. Tender. Lingering.

Lance feels his heart leap as light floods his vision and he takes a deep, gasping breath of oxygen.

 _Stay with me, Lance,_ Shiro says, voice filled with affection as everything darkens and Lance feels himself falling.


	3. Anything

Shiro stares, at nothing, probably. He’s not sure how it’s possible, to have your eyes open and yet be looking at nothing, but there it is. He can’t bear to look at Lance, sits with his back leaning against Lance’s healing pod, because if he looks at him he’ll see how wounded and pale and fragile Lance is, he’ll think about the possibility that Lance may never wake up.

“The damage to his body is extensive,” Coran had explained, reading from a holographic chart of Lance’s vital signs. “Luckily you got to him before the corrosive gas could do too much damage to his major organs. It did, however, reach small parts of his spine and brain. The human brain is too complex and unconventional for our machines to understand how the damage will affect Lance. From the information we’ve gathered from Matt, it could be… it could be too much damage for Lance to… to wake up from.”

Coran had spoken slowly, voice breaking with raw emotion. They had all been quiet, sorrow hanging like a heavy, dark cloud over all of them. No one had spoken, no one had known what to say.

 _Luckily you got to him before the corrosive gas could do too much damage_ , Coran had said to Shiro, but clearly he hadn’t gotten to Lance fast enough. If he’d just have been quicker, had Black there sooner, Lance might be okay, Lance might have more of a chance of waking up.

Remembering it, Shiro recalls the sounds of Lance’s pained sobs, his gasping breaths and his apology that sounded more like a farewell. Shiro squeezes his eyes closed at the swell of gut-wrenching grief that fills him, tilting his head back against Lance’s healing pod as the sounds of Lance dying repeat in his mind, shredding through his heart.

Shiro should never have allowed this to happen, he should never have allowed them to leave on this mission so hastily and heedlessly. They’d been too eager to cure Shiro to see the gaping suspicion of it all. It had been a trap, of course the Galra had known that the Galra Scientist had been captured and that her laboratory would be exactly where Voltron would go. Shiro had sensed it, the wrongness of it all, too easy, too fast, but he’d been blinded by the giddying idea of being human again.

He bangs his head back against the healing pod. _I should never have let this happen, I should never have let them go,_ Shiro growls, blaming himself. _I should never have let him go…_

“Shiro?”

A voice breaks Shiro free of his self-loathing thoughts, booted footsteps drawing near. Opening his eyes, Shiro sees Keith approaching, his trademark ‘bitchface’ – as Lance had dubbed it – twisting his features.

Keith sighs heavily, annoyed. “Seriously? He does _this_ to himself,” he growls, throwing an indicative arm at Lance’s healing pod. “And now he’s depriving you of your recovery time. Matt said after the serum changes you back you’ll need lots of sleep because of the physical impact the change has on your body.”

“Since when do you listen to Matt’s medical advice?” Shiro questions, frowning.

“What? Since always. Matt’s a smart guy, we should all listen to his medical advice,” Keith bristles too hurriedly, averting his gaze.

Shiro raises an eyebrow at Keith’s flustered state. “‘Smart guy,’ huh? That’s a rather big compliment coming from you. I don’t even think you’ve ever called Pidge or Hunk smart.”

“I—That’s not—I probably have,” he mumbles, stumbling over his words as his cheeks colour. “Would you just go and have some rest already. I’ll watch Lance and let you know if anything changes.”

Shiro hums. “Here I thought you didn’t want anything to do with the ‘dramatic, self-destructive idiot who can’t even be trusted to protect himself let alone others.’”

“I’m just… angry. How are you not angry at him? What he did…” Keith trails off, his hands curled into tight fists and his jaw working as his eyes move back and forth across the floor. “I was right there, Shiro. I couldn’t stop him, I’m supposed to be faster but he moved and I couldn’t follow. I couldn’t—How the hell was I supposed to know he’d do that?”

Keith demonstrates a broad range of complicated emotions in ways others don’t often understand, mostly in anger and frustration. And since they got back, in the two days that have followed, Keith has been seething, irate and restless. Which really just means he feels guilty and worried.

“You couldn’t know, Keith. Lance made his decision and there was nothing you could have done.”

“But we’re the ones who have to live with it!” Keith yells, then flinches at his own words, tenses at his own insinuation of Lance’s death.

“Trust me,” Shiro says quietly. “No one understands that more than me. If Lance—If he doesn’t… He gave his life for me, Keith.”

“How does that not make you angry?”

He sighs, a painfully hard knot forming in his throat. “I’m tired.” _Sad. Lonely. Heartbroken._ “I don’t have the energy to feel angry.”

Keith doesn’t respond, simply remains quiet as he stares past Shiro, probably at Lance’s frozen form in the healing pod.

“You need to rest, Shiro,” Keith says, voice soft but firm with command.

Shiro thinks about refusing, about stubbornly leaning against Lance’s healing pod until he falls unconscious under the weight of his fatigue, but he knows falling asleep here will only hurt his back and neck, and leave something for Lance to fall over if he gets out of the healing pod. _When_ he gets out of the healing pod. Lance never gave up on Shiro, so, for Lance, Shiro will hold onto all the hope he can muster. Even if it feels hopeless.

Leaning heavily against the healing pod for support, Shiro rises to his feet and slowly, hesitantly, turns to look at Lance. He looks beautiful, peaceful in a way that hurts, he looks like he’s been carved out of marble like some stunning sculpture, too lovely to be real. Shiro presses the human fingers of his left hand against the cool glasses, lining his hand up so he can pretend he’s cupping Lance’s cheek.

 _Please,_ Shiro pleads. _Please wake up._

It feels like a farewell, and Shiro hates it, but he steps back and lets his hand drop. Staring at Lance a moment more before turning on his heel and walking out, giving Keith a quiet _thanks_ as he passes.

It takes all of Shiro’s remaining strength to keep himself upright and moving, therefore he walks through the Castle of Lion’s corridors on autopilot and somehow winds up in Lance’s room. Not questioning it, Shiro collapses onto Lance’s bed and hates himself a little that it was so easy and instinctive to come here. Face pressed into Lance’s pillow, surrounded by his smell and his things, Shiro fades quickly, more comfortable in Lance’s bed than he’s ever been anywhere since after the Galra captured him.

 

* * *

 

Shiro sits and stares at the profile of Lance’s face, traces the line of his expressionless brow, his adorable sweeping-to-a-point nose, the small curves of his thin lips, and his sharply pointed chin. He’s still, which is always a panic inducing sight; Lance, who is always on the go, so energetic, so expressive, always with a playful line or ill-timed joke. His chest rises and falls slowly, but that gives Shiro only a minor amount of comfort. He’s tense, and doesn’t remember what it feels like to not be tense anymore.

Lance had stumbled out of the healing pod and, fortunately, Keith, with his lightning-quick reflexes, had been there to catch him. But Lance hadn’t awoken.

“Comatose,” Matt explained, visiting the sombre Castle of Lions to examine Lance personally. “His body, his wounds, have healed. Even the finer, more difficult ones on his brain and spine. But his mind… Despite all our technological advances our understanding of the mind isn’t complete. He’s still alive, which means he’s trying. But it’s impossible to know how long it will take. Or even… Or if Lance will be successful.”

Now Lance lies in his own bed in his room on the Castle of Lions, a couple of Altean live-sign monitors around the bed making odd clicking noises. Shiro hasn’t left the room since Lance had been put in here, being brought food and water, showering in Lance’s bathroom infrequently, and sleeping only for short bursts.

Matt sat there with him for a long time, just talking with little care for whether Shiro responded or not. Matt said it could help Lance heal, to hear familiar voices, but Shiro knew Matt was just concerned for him sitting alone in here waiting helplessly for Lance to wake, either way Shiro was grateful for the distraction.

Keith came, Keith paced, Keith left; multiple times, instructed by Matt but not knowing what to say. Pidge visited often, informing Shiro and Lance of the research she’d been doing, upgrades for the healing pod based on information Matt had been giving her about the human brain. Allura and Coran checked in regularly, talking optimistically to Lance. Hunk was there the most, sitting quietly leaning back against Lance’s bed, picking at his fingers and worrying, sometimes crying softly. Shiro comforted Hunk as much as possible, understanding that uncontrollable, weighty feeling of loss.

In melancholy moments Shiro wishes he was back in his cell from when he was a gladiator for the Galra, because that was easier than this. At least he had something to do, something active and distracting. This, this waiting, is torture. Lance, alive, but barely, could die at any moment. Or wake up at any moment.

Shiro sighs, bows his head and rubs at his face.

He should have told Lance, that night on his birthday. He should have held onto Lance, not allowing him to disappear back to the party and all the people who leered at him and enjoyed his company and occupied precious time with him that Shiro desperately craved. Shiro should have held onto Lance and told him how he felt. How he _feels_.

“At least then you’d have known,” Shiro finds himself saying out loud, mumbling into his hands. “How much I love you.”

The room is still. It feels like something should change, now that he’s spoken the words aloud, but nothing does. He imagines Lance’s possible reactions, from the yearned for kiss and reciprocation to the horrified disgust and being walked away from, never spoken to again.

It doesn’t even hurt, doesn’t even matter, because Lance will never hear it, will never know. A tear, cold and itching, rolls silently down Shiro’s cheek. It’s been too long, a whole, painful week, and surely if he’s not awake now he never will be awake again. Lance may be the strongest person Shiro knows, but there is only so much a person can withstand.

A machine clicks strangely. Well, _more_ strangely, because these Altean monitors still, after all these years, sound so bizarre compared to the human medical beeping Shiro is accustomed to. He glances up but nothing has changed.

With a frown embedded in his forehead he walks over to the monitors and inspects the Altean symbols he only partially understands. Nothing. Must have just been a glitch or a reboot alert sound he’s never heard before – which seems unlikely considering the amount of time he’s spent in here.

Then he sees it, at the edge of his periphery, movement. Shiro whirls to see a shadow of movement at Lance’s long fingers. A figment of his imagination? Wishful thinking? Shiro stands impossibly still, staring, waiting.

Lance’s brow furrows ever so slightly and his finger twitches. The machine clicks.

“Lance…” Shiro whispers, hope coiling tightly and painfully in his chest.

Lance breathes a heavy sigh, an unfathomable change in the rhythmic pattern of his breathing, and his expression relaxes. For an agonising, panicked second Shiro thinks Lance might have let go, given up, but he should know better. Lance never gives up. A small smile curls onto Lance’s lips and his fingers slowly curl into his palm.

“Lance,” Shiro breathes his name, the single word full of relief and affection, and he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Mm,” he hums his acknowledgment, then his throat is trembling as he attempts to swallow and manages to rasp out, “Shiro.”

Shiro splays his large human hand over Lance’s chest. “Take it easy. Take it slow.”

And so he does as he’s told – _for once_ , Keith’s voice in his head supplies. Lance takes steady, deep breaths, swallows heavily to get some saliva into his undoubtedly dry throat, and relaxes down into his bed. He remains like that for a while, taking his time, which is a very un-Lance-like thing to do. It must be a slow and difficult process, waking up from a coma.

Shiro watches the fine muscles in Lance’s face twitch, forming micro expressions Shiro’s all too familiar with after years of studying his expressive face. He feels a touch at the hand he has splayed over Lance’s chest and glances down to see Lance’s long fingers slowly sliding over his hand, fingertips exploring the shapes of his knuckles and tendons and scars. When Shiro glances back up he quickly finds himself sinking into the depths of Lance’s blue eyes. Brilliant, smiling eyes.

“You… You’re human,” Lance says, voice croaky with disuse. “I knew the genius siblings would be able to do it.” He frowns, a small twitch of his brow as he glances around. “I’m in my room… What happened?”

Shiro’s jaw clenches. “You almost died.”

“I…” he winces, expression crumpling with evoked pain. “I remember.”

Lance goes to sit up but Shiro pushes him down quickly. Even that small amount of head movement makes Lance squeeze his eyes closed against a wave of dizziness.

“You’ve been unconscious for a week Lance, you need to be careful. Please,” Shiro says softly.

“I’m sorry,” Lance murmurs, and Shiro remembers his last words before he was in too much pain to form words. _Tell him I’m sorry._ “I had to… I couldn’t lose you, Shiro.”

“But I could lose you?” Shiro questions, loudly, too loudly, and rises to his feet.

Here is the anger. Now that Lance is awake, alive, eyes blinking open again to stare at Shiro for long silent moments. Shiro’s breathing hard as all the emotion he’d supressed from the moment he pulled Lance from that gas-filled room surge into a maelstrom within.

Listening to Keith and Pidge scream for Lance, their voices so distressed Shiro felt it like a painful shock through his entire body. Hearing Lance’s apology, imagining the smile Shiro could hear in his voice, the content in his words that sounded so final. The sounds of Lance’s death; chocking, sobbing, screaming. Then feeling nothing, all emotion consumed by the need to _be_ there, to _do_ something, to _save_ him.

Shiro cried out for her in his mind and Black reached for him, connecting effortlessly. Black flew, at the power of Shiro’s control, faster than she ever had, and reached the facility in seconds. Somehow knowing Lance’s exact location, Shiro and Black tore through the solid metal walls of that room. The corrosive gas burned at Black’s muzzle as they heedlessly dove inside to retrieve Lance, picking him ever so carefully in Black’s mouth.

“You don’t know what it was like,” Lance says, his voice growing strength but in a tone far more intense than Shiro has ever heard. “That last time you lost control to the wolf, for a _whole ten minutes_ you weren’t even you. You weren’t even there, Shiro. Every second of those ten minutes I spent thinking that that was it, that you’d never come back.”

“Of course I know what that felt like! I could see myself, distantly and not in control. Each time it got worse, like staring down a tunnel and I was only getting further and further away from you… From myself.”

“Exactly! That’s exactly why I did what I did!”

“You nearly died!” Shiro yells.

“But I didn’t,” Lance says, his voice gentle.

Shiro growls a huff of frustration and paces the space of Lance’s room, fingers raking through his cropped hair as he tries to burn off some of his anger. Lance is moving, Shiro can see in his periphery every time he paces towards him, trying to prop himself up on his elbows and mostly failing with the weakness of his muscles. Eventually he makes it, with the assistance of some strategically placed pillows.

“And here I thought you’d be happy I’m alive,” Lance mumbles.

“I am!”

Shiro stops his pacing and watches as an amused smile curls at Lance’s dry lips. Heaving a sigh, Shiro walks over and sits on the bed beside Lance. Picking up one of the water bags from the pile on the bedside table, Shiro pushes the straw in and raises it to Lance’s mouth. Lance hums appreciatively and sucks at the straw thirstily; he shouldn’t have too much too soon but it’s only a small pouch of water so Shiro lets him finish it.

“Thanks,” Lance says, settling back against the pillows he’s managed to stack messily behind him. “So,” he starts, meeting Shiro’s gaze. “You kissed me on the cheek, numerous times if you count all the wolfy smooches, and slept with me in my bed for three nights.”

Shiro rolls his eyes. “Lance, we can discuss this later, you literally just woke up from a coma.”

“Exactly, no time like the present. I could die at any moment.”

Shiro gives him a warning glare. “Don’t.”

“Shiro…”

Lance finds Shiro’s hand where it rests on his thigh and laces their fingers together with a confidence Shiro could only dream of having. Shiro gazes down at their hands, watches as the dark skin of Lance’s fingers entangles with the pale skin of his own, both hands equally as scarred, calloused, and battle-worn over the years.

Isn’t this what he’d been wishing for not a few minutes earlier, the opportunity to tell Lance how he feels? This whole situation has not only made Shiro aware of how much he cares for Lance, but also how important it is to let the people he cares about know exactly how much they mean to him. The last few weeks have demonstrated that Lance has, at the very least, more intimate feelings for Shiro than simple friendship, so what does he have to lose?

“Okay, fine, _I’ll_ go—”

“I’m in love with you, Lance,” Shiro says, voice sure and steady.

“ _What?!_ ” Lance all but squeals. And there it is, that high-pitched, emotive tone Shiro knows and loves. Shiro smiles at the dumbfounded expression on Lance’s face, his jaw dropping open and eyes comically wide. “I—You… No. That’s not—What?”

“I am. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to realise. I’m sorry it took you nearly dying for me to tell you how much I care for you.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Lance says, hands flying through the air like he’s inelegantly conducting an orchestra, clearly regaining his strength. “Let me get this…” his face contorts in annoyance. “Whatever a synonym for ‘straight’ is that doesn’t also mean hetero. You’re in love with me… so you decided to kiss me on the cheek…?”

Shiro frowns, searching for a trick question. “Yes.”

Lance sighs, bowing his head as he mutters something in Spanish.

“English, Lance,” Shiro reminds him, because sometimes when he gets overly emotional – which is very different from his naturally melodramatic state of being – he rambles or shouts in Spanish and _needs_ reminding.

Lance glances up with a dangerous glint in his eyes, attempting to subdue a smirk, and Shiro knows before any words leave his mouth that it won’t be a translation. This is Lance’s ‘brilliant idea’ face; when he thinks he’s come up with something amazing and can’t contain how proud he is of himself. It’s… well, it’s really freaking adorable.

“Prove it,” Lance says, not as smoothly as he probably believes.

“Prove what?”

“Kiss me on the cheek again.”

Shiro nods easily, already having battled the nervousness of such an action the first time he did it on Lance’s birthday, and the couple of times he’s done it since as a wolf. As a wolf it felt so natural; instinctive reaction more than an actual premeditated action.

Sitting up and still smirking, Lance tilts his head slightly and presents his cheek for Shiro. Without hesitation, Shiro leans forward and, in the last second, Lance moves his head back, their lips meeting with only a slight bump of noses. Shiro’s eyes widen in surprise but the warmth of Lance’s dry lips keeps him in place, his pulse fluttering ridiculously and his eyes falling closed.

Feeling Shiro relax into the kiss, Lance tilts his head and opens his mouth, deepening the kiss, controlling the kiss. He reaches up and pushes his fingers into Shiro’s hair, smoothing his thumb tenderly over Shiro’s cheekbone. And Shiro gladly takes all Lance wants to give, too worried for Lance’s freshly healed fragility to do much more than rest his hand on Lance’s thigh.

Lance presses his forehead to Shiro’s to get some space between their mouths and huffs a laugh. Shiro opens his eyes and glances down at the smirk curving Lance’s tempting mouth.

“I’m not made of glass, Shiro,” he says, sensing Shiro’s hesitation.

“I’ve sat in this room with you for a week believing you’d never wake up,” Shiro explains, his heart aching at the memory and fingers squeezing at Lance’s thigh to reassure himself that Lance is here and Lance is awake and Lance is alive. “Until I’m certain you’re completely okay, you absolutely are made of glass.”

Lance’s smile softens and he kisses Shiro affectionately before humming in agreement. “That’s probably fair.”

As Lance leans back, barely a few inches, and opens his eyes, Shiro notices the vibrant happiness in those beautiful blue eyes and all he can think is: _I almost didn’t have this._ It’s selfish but Shiro can’t help it. He needs Lance, he can’t lose him.

“Seriously, Lance, _never_ do that again. You scared me.”

“Yessir!”

“I mean it. Never again,” Shiro repeats, dropping naturally into his order-giving voice.

“Wanna know something funny? It’s a good thing we have rather concealing armour because your commanding voice always gives me a semi.”

“A semi…?” Shiro questions, eyebrows lowering in confusion before shooting upwards in understanding. He blushes instantly. “Lance,” he growls, flustered.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff!” Lance groans playfully and laughs at his own teasing humour.

Shiro rolls his eyes but allows Lance to pull him down for more kisses; probably tired from sitting upright and needing to sink back against the pillows. Shiro holds himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest any of his weight on Lance. Lance’s kisses are unfaltering and firm, filled with passion and intent, and his fingers roam Shiro’s hair and face and chest. Oddly, Shiro feels like the wolf again, revelling in every touch.

Lance stops abruptly, pushing Shiro back a small distance with a hand on his chest, his eyes wide with concern.

“You know I love you too, right?” Lance says hurriedly. Shiro opens his mouth to respond but Lance continues. “I mean, obviously, with all the kissing and touching, but that’s just a physical thing. Well, to _me_ it’s _not_ just a physical thing, but it could be construed as such. Then there’s the whole risking my life to save you thing, but I also love Hunk and Pidge and—well—any of our friends enough to do that for them too. But I don’t also want to fuck them, like I want to fuck you.

“And I don’t _just_ want to fuck you. I also really, really—um, love you,” Lance finishes haltingly, wrinkling his nose at his own rambling words. “Sorry, I think the coma is catching up with me. A lot of that I totally did _not_ mean to say out loud but I really do—”

“Lance,” Shiro says soothingly, smiling fondly despite the heat warming up the back of his neck at some of Lance’s comments. “It’s okay, I know.”

Expression easing, Lance relaxes into the pillows, and Shiro leans down, kissing him with all the tenderness and affection he can. A few more kisses and Shiro surmises that kissing Lance is ridiculously easy, warm and comfortable like he’s been doing it for years, but when Lance swipes his tongue across Shiro’s top lip it quickly becomes something fiery and intense Shiro has to stop immediately for Lance’s current glass status. Not that he doesn’t want the fire, not that he hasn’t thought about it, a lot, mostly while alone, gripping himself tightly and murmuring Lance’s name repeatedly.

Suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat puts Shiro on high alert, jumping to his feet – probably too quickly by the sound of Lance’s muttered cursing – and ready to defend Lance. A remnant of his wolf-self and his past as a Galran captive. Met with the combination of the amused and confused faces of his friends though, Shiro blushes and freezes.

“Jesus, Shiro, how long after Lance woke up did you wait to pounce on him?” Matt remarks, grinning mischievously as he moves over to the Altean machines clicking away around Lance.

“I didn’t—”

“Shiro was healing me,” Lance says, waggling his eyebrows. Shiro had almost forgotten how shameless he can be, being in a relationship with him is going to be embarrassing. “He’s got that healing touch.”

“He’s making dirty jokes already so he’s clearly fine,” Pidge surmises with a smirk, coming over to sit at the foot of Lance’s bed, curling her legs underneath herself casually.

Allura’s frowning uncertainly. “I don’t understand. Was that some sort of human resuscitation method?”

“You could say that,” Hunk answers, grinning broadly as he joins Pidge.

“Lance certainly looks very healthy,” Coran comments, tilting his head as he inspects Lance.

“Shiro’s resuscitation method was extremely effect,” Matt teases relentlessly, smirking even though he’s entirely concentrated on the medical monitors display, scrolling through screens of information. “Lance’s vitals are all stable, or rather, continue to be, as they’ve been stable since he got out of the healing pod. Although, right here, there’s a spike in heartrate, just before we arrived… Did we interrupt something?”

“No,” Shiro states firmly at the same time as Lance says, “Yes.”

Allura and Coran look completely lost in the conversation so Pidge takes pity on them, explaining, “They were kissing.” The two Alteans “oh!” in understanding.

“About time,” Allura says.

“You owe me a weeks’ worth of desert goo,” Pidge tells Hunk, referring to his perfected and complicated desert dish of goo and other exotic alien ingredients. “Can’t believe you didn’t doubt Lance’s ability to keep it in his pants.”

“He’s kept it a secret for years!” Hunk argues, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth as he lets the information slip.

“Hunk!” Lance snaps, sitting upright as his cheeks darkening with embarrassment – Shiro quickly quietens the part of him that finds it incredibly enticing.

“Well, I for one am not at all surprised Shiro kept his crush to himself for so long,” Matt says, probably to even the embarrassment out. “The man is all about bottling up his emotions.”

“Matt,” Shiro grinds out.

“But I told you all the drama would get the big lug to tell finally Lance how he feels,” Matt continues on as if Shiro hadn’t spoken, winking at Keith. “You owe me some one-on-one training, Keith.”

Cheeks flushing pink and eyes widening, Keith quickly averts his gaze and mutters, “Fine.”

Shiro frowns, glancing between his two best friends – Keith’s arms crossed over his chest defensively and Matt grinning brightly – with dawning realisation. The room is quiet as the others slowly come to the same conclusion, but before anyone can comment, Pidge – who probably knew long before even Keith or Matt did, as she tends to do – interrupts.

“Lance,” she snaps, pointing an accusing finger at him. “If you ever do anything like that again I will murder you.”

“You need to trust in us, Lance,” Allura adds, her voice scolding with an undertone of concern. “We would have found another way to cure Shiro. We _always_ find a way.”

Smiling ruefully, Lance says, “I’m sorry I scared you, guys.”

He doesn’t say what they want him to say, he doesn’t say that it will never happen again because if there is one thing Lance isn’t, it’s a liar. They all know he’d do it again, they all know he’d do it for any one of them. As much as they’d prefer he wouldn’t jump into the line of fire to protect them it’s one of the reasons they all love him, and they’d all do the same for him.

Knowing all of this, knowing they’re still at war even though it’s settled somewhat in the past deca-phoeb, they leave it at that.

As Hunk and Coran point out the contradictory nature of Pidge’s comment, starting a rather bizarre and slightly disturbing discussion about old human torture methods through the use of drowning and resuscitation, Shiro senses a touch at his robotic arm thanks to upgrades Pidge, Matt and Hunk made a year ago that send messages to his brain when his metal arm is touched. Shiro glances down to see Lance gripping his metal hand that he hadn’t even noticed was still curled up into a tight fist. Lance smiles warmly up at him and Shiro’s hand relaxes instantly, and he carefully threads his metal fingers between Lance’s.

He surprises himself with how easy it is, the casual touch, despite being caught and all proceeding embarrassment, Lance’s hand feels like it belongs in his, metal or human, it doesn’t matter. Shiro wants Lance by his side always, and will do everything in his power to keep Lance there.

“Can we please stop talking about water torture and talk about how quiznaking amazing Shiro is for piloting Black with _only his thoughts_ ,” Lance comments, sounding incredibly proud and in awe, and, somehow, Shiro blushes harder than he has this entire discomforting conversation.

 _To save you,_ Shiro thinks. _I’d do anything to save you, Lance. Anything._

 

* * *

 

The Castle of Lions is once again crowded with aliens. _People_ , Lance amends mentally. _Yes, Lance,_ _they’re people too,_ Shiro’s voice reminds him. He’s getting there, he promises. This is the third event they’ve hosted at the Castle of Lions in as many months, it’s getting incredibly exhausting, especially since Allura caught on early to Lance’s keen ability to charm allies onto their side and has shameless used this to her advantage. His cheeks ache from fake smiling.

Lance makes his way through the main hall, weaving his way through groups of people and ignoring their calls to get his attention. His eyes scour the crowd as he goes, searching for that ridiculously broad chest, those dreamy smoky grey eyes, and that rapidly whitening head of cropped black hair. It takes a while but eventually he spots Shiro, smiling brightly if a little insincerely, with a group of Kythra; he can be incredibly charming too when he stops being all stoic and intense.

“Ah, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Lance says with a grin that only widens when Shiro smiles in earnest at the sight of him. “I’m sorry, I have to steal Shiro away from you. Important Paladin business and all that.”

Taking Shiro by the elbow, Lance hurriedly leads him away from the Kythra and towards the familiar isolated alcove. Lance chuckles a little as he gets there but Shiro stops abruptly and Lance loses his grip on him. Turning, he sees Shiro regarding him with fond exasperation and shaking his head slightly.

“Lance, you can’t just whisk me away from the _actual_ important Paladin business every time we host an event,” Shiro scolds, though it’s severely lacking any real conviction.

“Not even if it’s nostalgic and incredibly romantic?”

Shiro huffs a laugh. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Lance says, his voice low as he approaches Shiro.

Despite his protests, Shiro allows himself to be backed against the wall by Lance rather easily, especially since he’s proved on numerous occasions that he is more than capable of overpowering Lance in the best ways possible. Lance leans into him, their bodies slotting together so perfectly, and his hands naturally finding Shiro’s waist and sliding down to his hips.

“Mostly,” Shiro mumbles, eyes clouding over slightly as he licks his lips instinctively.

“Mostly sure?”

Shiro hums, leaning forward to press a kiss to Lance’s cheek. “It might be a little romantic,” he concedes, a smile evident in his tone as he nuzzles into Lance’s neck.

“Still a giant dog, I see,” Lance teases and gets a sharp nip at his neck for it.

“Still a beautiful arsehole, I see.”

“You would know since you’re always down—”

Shiro rolls his eyes and demonstrates his favourite way of shutting Lance up, kissing his mouth until the words simply become an appreciative hum. Lance grins into it and then tilts his head to get better access, licking into Shiro’s mouth unabashedly.

For long, heated moments they kiss, Shiro somehow pulling Lance closer against him and Lance’s fingers squeezing at Shiro’s arse. Until Lance trails kisses up Shiro’s jaw, pulls away slightly and rests their foreheads together. They exchange hot breaths, eyes opening gradually and gazes meeting.

“Happy Birthday, Shiro.”

Shiro smiles, full of love and adoration, and Lance files the sight of it away in his memory before pressing a kiss to his lips. Tender and lingering, making his heart tumble and gallop.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments, I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Just a wonderful bonus when I enjoy writing Shance so very much. Likely more to come, since I'm hopeless and cannot resist my black&blue boys <3
> 
> [my tumblr](http://sarogane.tumblr.com/) || [my twitter](https://twitter.com/sarogane%22)


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